


A Learner’s Guide to the Fine Art of Flirting and Seduction

by Thymesis



Series: Star Wars Rare Pairs Collection (NC-17) [19]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Dark Disciple - Christie Golden, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Awkwardness, Banter, Chocolate Box Exchange 2018, Exchange Assignment, First Time, Fluff, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:38:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: In preparation for a forthcoming undercover mission, Obi-Wan instructs Quinlan in the fine art of flirting and seduction.He may have taught his student too well.





	A Learner’s Guide to the Fine Art of Flirting and Seduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/gifts).



> Inspired by _Dark Disciple_ by Christie Golden. You definitely do not need to have read the novel (let alone enjoyed it!) to understand this story.

“Hey, gorgeous, can I buy you a drink? What’s your potion?”

“Not bad,” Obi-Wan said. “A shame we’re at the Temple and the strongest beverage on offer is this jogan juice.” He paused, stroking his beard with one hand contemplatively. The glass he held in his other had been momentarily forgotten. “However, I believe the correct Coruscanti slang is ‘poison,’ not ‘potion,’ and it may be best if you avoid any suggestion which could be misconstrued as a threat when propositioning Ventress.”

“Okay. Your radiance is like three suns rising in the lower levels.”

Obi-Wan’s expression turned as sour as his jogan juice. “If I recall correctly, Quinlan, you failed to attend any literary history seminars back when you were a Padawan learner. It shows—poetry is clearly not your forte. That’s not sexy. It’s barely funny.”

“What? You don’t think I’m sexy?”

“At the moment? No. Sorry. And Ventress won’t either.” He drained his glass and set it back down on the dining hall table with a soft thump.

Quinlan Vos heaved a sigh, ready to tear his hair out by the roots in sheer frustration. His next undercover mission assignment, to befriend ex-Sith apprentice Asajj Ventress and recruit her for an eventual attempt on Separatist leader Count Dooku’s life, was expected to commence tomorrow morning. He’d asked Obi-Wan, who had crossed lightsabers with Ventress in the past, for some pointers as to how to get into her good graces. Obi-Wan had suggested flirting. Quinlan had then asked Obi-Wan to help him practice.

Obi-Wan had agreed readily enough, but now Quinlan was starting to regret having requested his assistance in the first place. The man was positively infuriating.

Be a little rough around the edges, he’d said. Leer a bit, he’d said. Ventress would enjoy the thrust and parry, the power play of an attempted seduction. But the truth of matters was that Quinlan was simply not very good at flirting and banter, and Obi-Wan did not hesitate to tell him so.

“Look,” Obi-Wan began, preparing to rise from the table, “you shouldn’t worry yourself over it. When the time comes, trust your instincts. The Force will guide—”

“Why don’t we continue this discussion somewhere more private? Your place or mine?” Quinlan interrupted. He bared his teeth in a manner he hoped looked like a reasonable facsimile of a predatory smile.

Obi-Wan froze halfway in and halfway out of his seat and chuckled ruefully. “Hmm, that’s much better actually. Just the right amount of aggression. Ha! Maybe you’re capable of learning after all!” He winked at Quinlan good-naturedly…and that wink shot straight to the base of Quinlan’s penis with a sweet, sizzling heat.

All of a sudden, Quinlan remembered old feelings long repressed and suppressed, how damned attractive Obi-Wan had been in their younger days before he’d started cultivating that infernal ginger beard in order to be taken more seriously…and _that_ made Quinlan think of body hair…and _that_ made him wonder…

Quinlan took a deep breath and raked his gaze deliberately up, down, and all around the outlines of Obi-Wan’s body before allowing it to settle at his groin. “To be honest,” he said, “I’ve always wondered if you’re ginger down there as well.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. His cheeks blushed bright crimson. He—Obi-Wan Kenobi, _the_ Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master with an honorable seat on the Jedi High Council—had been stunned speechless.

“My place,” Quinlan said decisively. “I want to find out for myself.”

This wasn’t about Ventress or Quinlan’s next mission anymore. This was about _them_ , about him and Obi-Wan. He grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand and escorted, or rather dragged, Obi-Wan through the Jedi Temple’s soaring, sunlit halls, into the respulsorlift, and back to his private tower quarters. Obi-Wan sputtered and grumbled nonstop the entire way, but he wasn’t really objecting.

Nope, not really.

Victory.

***

He _was_ ginger down there as well, as it turned out.

They’d tried kissing at first, but they hadn’t known what to do beyond the basics, and it had just ended up being weird and uncomfortable. So instead, they’d skipped straight to the main event. Now Obi-Wan was naked and laid out flat on his back on Quinlan’s bed, and Quinlan, likewise naked, was on top and straddling Obi-Wan’s hips, acting like he was in total control of the situation when, in fact, he’d never turned theory into practice before in his life.

And neither, for that matter, had Obi-Wan. That was obvious. The tension in his abdominal muscles and the perplexed line between his eyebrows were as easy to read as a youngling’s datapad. Quinlan didn’t even need to try sensing his feelings through the Force.

Handsome, flirtatious Obi-Wan had never gotten further than flirting with any partner. Quinlan would be his first, and he would be Quinlan’s. Who would have believed it? The revelation made Quinlan lightheaded, delirious with joy. This wouldn’t just be about base sensual pleasure; it would be about observation and learning, about mutual discovery, about wonder, about delight.

In other words, Obi-Wan was the exotic banquet, and he, Quinlan, was the sole diner. Hmm. Where to begin?! Which gourmet delicacy to test first? Yes indeed, he was more than ready to gorge himself on this new experience.

Since they were both Human and male, Quinlan figured he wasn’t a rank beginner. Without ceremony, he grasped Obi-Wan’s penis between his thumb and forefinger and began sliding his foreskin up and down. Ah, lovely. It was so soft and silken and stretchy. Quinlan slipped his fingers inside, testing its elasticity and stroking around moist coronal ridge underneath. That felt rough, bumpy; Obi-Wan had papules! Delighted by that discovery, Quinlan retracted his foreskin fully to inspect them. Yeah, sure enough! He scraped one fingernail against the tiny rows of pearly lumps. Obi-Wan inhaled sharply but didn’t protest.

All in all, it took less than a minute for Obi-Wan to get hard, and Quinlan had hardened too, untouched, just from playing with him and watching his reactions. Shared arousal had to count for _something_. He must be on the right track.

Quinlan continued his inspection. Their erections proved to be near-identical in length and girth, with only minor variations in the overall shape and the random squiggles of veins. Quinlan tried holding them tightly against each other to compare, enjoying the way Obi-Wan shuddered beneath him at the contact, and quickly became entranced by the striking differences in their respective coloration. Obi-Wan’s skin was pale, shaded almost pink at the tip of his foreskin, and the glans beneath was a warm, rosy hue. Quinlan’s skin was a uniform brown from base to tip, and his glans was a rich, raw purple.

Light and dark, plus two shades of sunset, Quinlan thought. Oh wait, Obi-Wan had suggested he would be best served by avoiding poetic metaphors, hadn’t he? Quinlan decided to keep his big mouth shut.

“Are you going to do anything? Or are you just going to keep staring?” Obi-Wan’s voice was a hoarse growl of sexual frustration. Clearly, he was sufficiently aroused now and wanted release—the sooner the better!

But Quinlan wasn’t inclined to give it to him. Well, not this soon. He wanted to take his time and enjoy the moment. He began stroking their erections together with one hand.

Very. Very. Very. Slowly.

Obi-Wan muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a string of unmentionable Huttese obscenities.

Quinlan sped up.

Somewhat.

It felt strange at first, and it took a few false starts before he found a steady rhythm. Then he continued until he had taken them both to the precipice. Then he backed down, waiting until the urgency had abated enough for them to begin the arduous climb once more. Over and over and over again. Quinlan persisted until he had lost count of how many times they had repeated the cycle. Over and over and over yet again. Tight and swollen and throbbing. Desperation. Utter desperation. Obi-Wan was writhing and moaning and tossing his head from side to side like he was being tortured. Maybe he was. Maybe it was torture for Quinlan too. They were both leaking profusely, and shaking, and sharing the clear, slick fluid between them made the pleasure all the sweeter, more intense.

“Quinlan, if y-you think this is s-supposed to be educational or a-amusing—” Obi-Wan craned his neck forward to glare blaster bolts at Quinlan. He was trembling with such violence that his voice was stuttering.

“Stop talking. I’m concentrating.” Quinlan glared right back.

“I-I just—”

“Stop talking.”

“B-but—”

“Stop. Talking.”

Obi-Wan subsided into frustrated silence, resigning himself, apparently, to being the experimental subject of Quinlan’s learning.

They lasted a long time. They were Jedi, after all! Eventually, though, the need became too urgent to deny. Quinlan pumped their erections frantically while Obi-Wan clutched his hips and hung on for dear life. He’d probably have finger-shaped bruises tomorrow, but he was long past caring. Besides, they would make him look rough around the edges, right? And in the end, it was Quinlan, not Obi-Wan, who succumbed first, roaring as he spilled himself in long, searing pulses that seemed to go on and on and on forever.

“Quinlan…!” Obi-Wan’s eyes widened to the shape of twin blue moons at the sight and sensation of the warm river of semen pouring out from Quinlan’s penis and onto his own—and it triggered his orgasm. He flushed a blotchy crimson starting from the top of his forehead, down his neck to his breastbone, and stuffed a fist into his mouth to stifle his screams. He bucked hard as his scrotum tightened, the skin encasing the sac crinkling, and began ejaculating onto that ginger pubic hair.

He looked ridiculously ugly like this, Quinlan realized…and he looked oh so beautiful, never more beautiful than in the mindless throes of unendurable ecstasy, lost in wildness.

Afterwards, Quinlan fell forward onto Obi-Wan, exhausted, and Obi-Wan took his dead weight without a peep of protest. (Finally! No more protests!) They lay there together, unmoving, chest to chest, sweaty and panting and glued together by their mingled fluids.

The sex had been ungraceful, and it had been messy…and it had been an absolute marvel.

To Quinlan’s relief, no further words were necessary.

***

Obi-Wan stayed the night and shared Quinlan’s bed with him. Their sleep was peaceful and dreamless.

Which was all to the good. Sleeping was important for learning. It helped the brain to store new information more effectively, or so Quinlan had been told.

Come morning, they lay in each other’s arms, embracing, and their legs were tangled together. They would have to rise soon…

…but not _quite_ yet.

“Mmm.”

Quinlan smiled; Obi-Wan had awakened.

“You know, your training technique proved most effective in the end,” Quinlan remarked, his voice teasing as he nuzzled a ticklish spot behind Obi-Wan’s ear and massaged Obi-Wan’s calf muscle with the sole of one foot. “If you were so inclined, I do believe you would be able to write an excellent guide for learners on the fine art of flirting and seduction.”

Quinlan had half-expected Obi-Wan’s reaction to be regretful or perhaps vaguely embarrassed, but instead he just guffawed, generous and open, and nestled closer to Quinlan. “And you are a gifted student. Why don’t we co-author this proposed guide together after you return from your mission?” he suggested.

Ah. Returns were never guaranteed, especially not during times of war—they both understood that.

“Sounds like a plan to me!” Quinlan said brightly. “You’ll start working on the first chapter while I’m gone, won’t you?”

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> One of Quinlan’s quips was shamelessly appropriated from [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760794). (One guess as to which quip.)
> 
> Posted to the exchange on January 28, 2018.


End file.
